


The Futility of Gods

by black_hat_with_bells



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-01
Updated: 2011-05-01
Packaged: 2017-10-18 20:35:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/193040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/black_hat_with_bells/pseuds/black_hat_with_bells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam escapes with young Elle from the Company on his quest to save the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Futility of Gods

"Whhheeee."

Adam grimaced as Elle's squeal of joy mingled with the alarms blaring throughout the Company. He raced down the hall with the small girl tucked underneath his arm, keeping in mind that he wasn't free yet. The girl had shorted out the power grid but he'd have to find a window soon. He heard voices echoing to his left, and he dodged down the right hall, hoping his accurate memory hadn't failed him yet.

"Go faster, Adam, go," Elle said, waving her arms.

He was huffing too badly to answer. He had tricked the girl into thinking this was all a game, and he was glad one of them was having fun. He found a window and skidded in front of it. He remembered to put the girl down before he had instinctively jumped through it.

"Watch this," he told her with a wink. Breaking through the window wasn't as hard as he thought it'd be. Elle clapped and Adam bowed, and held up his hands. "Careful of glass."

The alarms were still blaring. She jumped into his arms, and he caught her. Another good thing. He was the parking lot, and just a fence away--was freedom.

"Monroe!"

He turned to see two agents running towards him. "Give it up, Monroe, you're unarmed."

"But I am armed," Adam corrected and held up Elle. She giggled and fried them. By fried them, he meant killed them. He wasn't surprised. Well, it worked. Moving on. He broke into a car easily enough, and placed the small child in the passenger side. "Seat belt," he told her, and she started to burn that too. "No, no, to wear it," he scolded, and thankfully she obeyed.

Skidding out of the parking lot, there was only one gate left.

Elle," he prompted. "Be a good girl and show me how you can open that gate."

Elle yawned. "I'm tired." She slumped in her seat. Adam's heart stopped. He reached over and prodded her wtih his finger.

"But, you have to show your father all you can do. Don't you want him to be proud?"

She struggled to sit up, still yawning. Adam thought he was done before he even got out of the gate. He'd have to go back and rot and slowly come to pieces in his head. It was only a gate, a gate!

Elle pointed and the bolt of lightning made the gate open with a clang. He put his footdown and in a space of two minutes, was free. He was free. Elle smiled at him from the passenger seat, a toothy space in her teeth.

"High five," she ordered and held up her hand, her pigtails waving.

He stared at her. "You see, Elle, I'm driving over here, and I want to keep you safe," he began, being thoughful and polite to a young child. She sparked, and the car's radio skipped.

"Oh, all right," he said hurriedly and gave her a high five. Elle beamed. He sighed.

This would be a long trip to get to the virus but it would be worth it. Five hours later, he was questioning the worth of it.

***  
Elle jumped from bed to bed in the room.

A long time ago, he had made a point of have hiding places, and this rule paid off.

Bed to bed. Back and forth. Forth and back. So on and so on. Adam didn't think much of it: let her wear herself out. He had his mind on other things, sitting in the chair at the desk and calculating his moves. Getting They'd expect him to go for the main virus, and it'd be heavily guarded. Not to mention he needed information from a certain someone.

Elle could be an asset there. A young girl would disarm most opponents: she was an ace up his sleeve. But perhaps he'd go for the lesser virus that was a prototype, more or less. It'd still pack enough of a punch to distract them. Then he could have a chance at the main virus. Perhaps they'd think the real one was fake, meant to be a distraction. Oh he could play that many ways. Fake one of the many agents they'd send after him (he knew this system better than any of them ever could) into believing it to be a cure. Yes, yes. There would be a minor death in the first epidemic, and then--when one 'caught' him (maybe using Elle in that regard) and threatened him for an answer, he could then use...

Then again, there was another option, a more beautiful one. He could cut out the middle man. He knew underground Specials had a hatred of the Company, and he was careful to shield both from the other. Now, through false information, he could work both sides against one another, and they can do the work for him. Lead the way, so to speak. It wasn't--as Arthur had alwayys believed--through the force of pure control one gained the upper hand. Pure control was an illusion to those who couldn't handle the changes.

Adaptability was what was the most important.

It was a brilliant approach. He'd use their own failings: power struggles, greed, fear, hatred against them. As he always did.

He'd feed them false information, say the Company needed to be stopped, and this was how: to make the Company think he had the virus. A hidden vial. Support a rumor of a cure. They'd increase security. To avoid Angela's troublesome ability, he'd have another false plot on the side to confuse her. All it'd take was a distrac-

There was a harsh thud as Elle hit the dresser in between the two beds. He just turned around in time to see her disappear behind the furniture and hit the ground. The lamp soon followed after.

He stared in shock. He almost laughed, because it was a) ironic and b) funny. There was a silence, a small flash of sparks, and then more silence.

Adam sighed and got to his feet. He looked around and saw the girl on the floor, curled up in a ball. She didn't make a sound. He moved closer, uneasy at her stillness.

"Elle," he said, using his most concerned voice.

He knelt down and touched her shoulder. She flinched.

"Now, don't pretend for it to be worse than it is. I'm an old pro at--."

It was as worse as it was. He didn't know how, or at what angle she had landed, but it was clear that she had done damage to her arm. She wasn't crying. All she had tears in her eyes but she wasn't crying. She was biting her lip, toughing it out.

At that, the reprimand died in his throat.

He would have preferred something...from her. "All right," he said. "Well, that certainly broke more than your fall....Wait, right there, then."

He should have stored some syringe, somewhere. He dug through the drawers, the cabinets--nothing. He came back to see her face in a mask of pain. He'd have to do this the old way. Blood directly into a drink, and make her drink it. It'd take thirty minutes, a long time for pain. But what else could he do? At this rate, she'd flare up and send out a signal. However, she seemed like she was oddly restrained. Trying hard not to...

Perhaps Bob had overtrained her. Adam wouldn't think about the mistakes of corrupt others, he'd just fix the damage.

"Elle," he said, having mixed the blood in a heavy drink he had had stashed for years. He'd have to watch how much she intook, but it might kill the pain and wouldn't do any damage. He didn't...have any other options at the moment. "Let's play another game."

Her eyes were bright. "Tired," she said. "Really tired. There's black dots."

He blinked at that. "You mean...you're about to pass out," he translated. "First, take this drink. I want you to drink as much as you can."

"I don't want to."

"You have to," he said, and he expected more of a fight. But she seemed to relent, become compliant, and put her lips to the edge of the glass. The disgust was clear on her face, and he couldn't much blame her.

"You're right, that was a bad year," he said, more to himself than her.

"No. I like it," Elle said, rather...slurred. "Can I have some more?"

"That's usually when you've had enough."

He did believe she was cross-eyed. That'd pass. She started to close her eyes and he nudged her. "Don't fall...asleep quite yet. I want to see if I've helped you." It was against his nature to not point out when he had been of help. Even to a child.

He scoffed a little to himself. Elle focused on him.

"I might need help staying awake."

He narrowed his eyes, recognizing a set-up when he saw one. "How so?"

"Sing to me. Maybe dance a little."

Adam stared at her. "On second thought, you do seem very tired."

Her lip threatened to wobble for the first time, and it was clear he was being played. Although she was also pale and rather pathetic there, on the ground.

"No dancing. I do happen to have a very good voice."

So, he cheated. He didn't sing per se. He merely spoke in one of the many languages that he remembered, mixing in a few words here and there, and speaking of some things unpleasant midway, but decided to do actual poetry from that point on. It was just what he felt like.

"How was that?" he asked, smiling at his own generosity.

"You sound like a cartoon," Elle said. "Like you ate helium."

And that made him twitch. His voice was deep, this he knew. He noticed her arm had healed.

"And you sound like you can be still and be in bed," he said, with an edge, and grabbed her off the floor, tucking her under the covers with extra tuck: there was no way she was getting up to wander around.

"Why do you sound funny?" she asked, eyes wide.

"A long time ago, a group of men decided that everyone from England would sound funny to bother everyone else in the world. That's all."

"It doesn't bother me," Elle said, wrinkling her nose.

He looked at her for a moment.

"It puts me to sleep," she said, as if she was the Queen herself bestowing a compliment. He scoffed.

"Then go to sleep."

Apparently, luckily, she was still drunk enough to fall asleep, quite peaceful and with a smile on her face. Adam didn't know how he kept ending up the one upset. He suspected it was his maturity over everyone.

He didn't care as long how nice he had to play, however, as long as it kept her willing to play her part.

***

Adam wished he had driven faster by the sign.

The gasp he heard showed that he was too slow. Carnival, ten miles. Dear lord, no.

"Adam," she said. "Are we friends?"

"I am your friend. I'm your only friend," he said.

"Like I'm yours."

At that, he paused. "Sorry to disappoint you, but I've had many friends over my lifetime."

"Where are they?" Elle demanded. He shook his head. She wiggled in her seat, persistent. He didn't really care to declare them all dust in front of a child that would one day be dust herself.

"I can tell you where they are not. At a carnival."

Elle was quiet, thinking it through.

"If I wasn't your friend, could I go to the carnival?" she asked, wrangling.

"You'd trade my esteemed friendship to go to the carnival?"

"Yes!"

"A chip off the old block."

"I don't like esteemed things for dinner," Elle explained, backtracked. He sighed. "Do you have any friends, really?" she asked. He would retort that he supposed not, since friendship was a business relationship--always there until the next carnival. But he decided to keep it simple, to fit the audience.

"You only truly have yourself, Elle," he said, and he thought he told her a great truth. He was sure he did. She looked at her hands, and then nodded.

"Yes."

He looked over at her, her age clear on her face and her words, having such certainty. There was no point in feeling superiority in his knowledge. It just was.

He found himself turning in the direction of the carnival because he knew no one would think he was crazy (as they did) enough to go there. It was safe as houses. As safe as they could be.

Elle looked up at him in shock.

"It's going to be the last carnival in quite awhile," Adam said, an explanation that meant nothing. It turned out to be a half-not-quiet mistake. He didn't make mistakes after all, and that wasn't an idle claim.

***

Elle clung to his leg, afraid of all the people.

It was as if she had become a growth of some sort. Bob was truly a fool. His weapon of choice was scared of people. Practical on some level, as she wasn't supposed to care for those she killed. But on the level of being a functional weapon, she was lacking.

Of course, she only clung to him when they got into the middle of the carnival, so there was no way of easily going back.

"Let go," he said. "I'll pick you up and carry you."

She looked distrustful. He didn't much blame her.

"You're completely in control here, Elle. Haven't you fried me often?"

That, unfroze her. She didn't seem to unstrand the concept of 'hold' however. Her body went limp when he picked her up underneath her arms. She was very thin, he noticed. Waif-like.

"Now, you know what would make you feel more comfortable?" he whispered to her.

"Picturing them all naked," she said. He raised an eyebrow.

"How about no," he said. "There are some unpleasant mental pictures from that approach."

"Then what?" she pouted, dipping her head against his shoulder, stiff again--afraid of all the lights too. She was like an animal, he realized. Some circuits in her brain were missing, removed permanently.

"How about all dead?" he offered, wise. To him, that was how he pictured most. It wasn't a lack of connection, or a profound lie. Compared to him, what? He admired them, for their shortness of life. They can flare up and he could care for them in his way. In his way. The girl in his arms too.

Her eyes lit up. "Ah," she said.

"They are yours to manipulate," he said. "Use. Play with like a toy. Doesn't that sound nice?"

Elle seemed to think it did. He liked that.

" If you beat that fear, that is. Do you want me to put you down?"

"No," she said, holding on. "I like seeing!"

She meant seeing everything, and his shoulders would ache if he could ache. Now, he was impressed by how selfish children could be--like purely selfish. He'd say most were children, only adults were never as pure about it. So, he allowed it, mostly because he didn't want the trouble of there being a disaster.

Mostly, he was bored by everything: the flashing lights, the screaming. He had been locked away for years, and it occurred to him that he might have been affected by it. If he thought about it, the girl was just as much a fixture from that old place. It didn't hurt to have a fixture around, only it did rather annoy him.

Elle, however much she was nervous, was not bored. She watched a group of people try to hit a target at a booth, detached and hungry at the same time.

"Why are they doing that?"

Why is the sky blue, when people do pointless things?

"To distract themselves from their lives, from the fact that there is no meaning for them."

"Can I be...destracted?" she misprounced.

"Why not," he said, wandering over.

"Can you hit it?" Elle asked, then. Could he hit it? Could he hit a little measly target?

"With one arm. Literally," he said and paid for his turn. All right. He missed the first one. But that was to add to the suspense.

"Would you-."

"That was a warmup try," he said, sharply, and grabbed the second baseball. This time, he did hit it. And got a big stuffed bear for his trouble. "Here," he offered. "This is definitely worthy of you."

She took it, and looked at him like he had hung the moon or some such nonsense. He was used to that kind of look, naturally.

***

It didn't take Adam long to figure out this carnival was not quite right.

Their acts were too realistic, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Elle knew as well, instinctively. He pushed the cotton candy into her hand, to make her be quiet about it, and she was quiet, watching the show.

The one that detached his own limbs was entertaining. Adam wondered what to do about this unexpected development. He saw the brilliance of the concept. He liked concepts, and would be fair about one that held up to scrutiny. Being outlandish in front of normal people, hiding in plain sight, was a good concept. A flawed, dependent concept, but a good one. Of course, deep down, he was sure everyone present knew what they were seeing. They just didn't want to accept it.

He himself had had two wives lose their minds when he pushed the limits a bit too hard (well, quite accidently). He didn't know what bothered him more: that he couldn't control the result, couldn't control the healing like some other powers could be controlled? Just like he couldn't control men popping in and out of time, control...

Well, never mind. It won't be a problem soon: he'd make the perfect world without these little incidents. As he watched one bloke breath fire, he decided he wanted no part of it. Yet. They were too connected to their validation from the audience to be truly useful at this stage. Too detached from the normal humans.

Adam turned to move Elle along, only to discover...that Elle was no longer there. An hour later, he realized that he shouldn't have let her go or put her down. He was surprised she had wandered away from him in the first place, he was the only one she knew here. Relied on. And yet she was gone.

He should leave her. Instead, he kept searching, and when he saw the sparks coming through the tent flap, his heart sunk. Not with fear. He hadn't felt fear in years (well. When he figured out he wasn't getting out of that room, there was something out of his hands, there...)

He honestly should leave her, for stepping away from him. Leave her to the wolves.

He peeked through, and a huddled group of Specials looked up at him in shock. Elle grinned and greeted him as she usually did, by shocking him. He was only thankful that she didn't go full blast and give his secret away.

"Elle," he said. "You know you can't trick people like this." He smiled charmingly at them. "My apologies."

Elle began to wander towards him, and was stopped by a hand on her shoulder. "It's not a trick, and you know it," the teenager said. "She's like us. Are you?"

"I confess I'm boring," he said. "She got that from her mother. And if you don't mind, we are going home."

That hand on her shoulder wasn't moving. "Well, is she with her mother at home, where there is someone like her?"

This was getting ridiculously melodramatic.

Elle, chosing this time to speak: "Mommy sent me away."

And that added the cherry on top of this mess.

"To me," Adam said, thinking she was going to give away the Company to them. "Now, without making a big display..."

Now, he saw the shadow sneaking up behind him. It was going to be one of those days. He could be hit and knocked unconscious, but being dead--was better for his chances. So, he turned and pulled out the gun from his pocket, and before he could move, he was stabbed several different ways.

Elle didn't scream because she was an old hat at him dying. He just hoped she wouldn't giggle about it.

"You didn't have to do that in front of the child!"

Adam rolled his eyes on the ground and played dead, and soon enough, he truly was.

Why Adam went back to the carnival, after crawling out of the hastily dug grave...he didn't know.

Elle didn't figure into his plans to that large an extent. He supposed he just didn't like someone thinking they stole from him, unless he wanted them to think that for a later revenge. He crept along the shadows, his shirt in tatters. By now, they had hidden the car too. He'd have to get another one. He had lost a shoe too. He thought one of them must have stolen it, but they only took one shoe. How strange, he'd have to muse on that one later.

He moved through, determined as he always was, and he found her, sitting up on the bed with that bear in her hands. She looked and saw him and smiled. Not a hint of a tear at his expense.

"I know you would have been crying if that bear had been taken from you."

"Adam," she said, childishly. "You always come back."

He was torn on how to reply to that: with anger or with flippancy. He chose flippancy as it didn't much matter. It was truly, and to some, it'd detract from the value of his life. For her, though, he'd take it as dependency.

"I do," he said. "And will you try and stop me?" he asked the shadow in the back of the room. The teenager tensed. Of course, Elle would have told someone.

"...No," she said finally. "I didn't mean for it to go down like that."

"No harm done," he said sardonically and picked up Elle. "It's not a day that ends with y that I don't die. I don't take it personally."

"You don't?"

"You'd know by now if I did," Adam said, easily. "Do you have a car I can use?"

She gave him the keys to one of the cars, shoddy things. He saw a hint of her power, a swirling darkness on her back, and Elle's eyes lit up, forgetting about her bear momentarily.

Adam was rather...put off. No one else should really be able to do that besides him.

"I'm so so sorry," the teengaer said again, running a hand through her hair.

"No, you're not. But thank you for being polite. I will remember the favor."

Elle's hands sparked against his chest as he put her in the car. "Do you want me to leave you behind?" he threatened.

She looked over his shoulder, helpless again. She didn't fight because she didn't think of the option.

One thing was constant: the temporary nature of loyalty, even from a child.

***

At first, Adam was frustrated about where to keep Elle when he went to recruit the Specials from the underground community (a community of his choosing).

Then he realized he could use her to his advantage. It'd disarm them even more, a small child. It'd give him some claim to subconscious sympathy. And it did. He was let in the door instantly when he said he was on the run with his small daughter.

The thing was, he disrespected those who fell for his words easily. Everyone was a liar, of course, so he didn't feel badly for not owing them the truth. They were given a seat at the corner of the large room, where Specials talked to each other, thinking they had a bond over powers. It was a very human thing. He found it fake and disconcerting.

"Now, Elle. You can learn something here. The worst person you can lie to is yourself."

"How would you know you were lying?"

"You wouldn't," he teased, just to bother her.

"That's silly," Elle said, slouching in her seat.

"Very," Adam said. "Now, hold still, you're about to see something sillier."

Elle didn't like the feeling of blood on her arm, but it had to do. Of course, it was his blood, but dramatic if he was to attract another helpful soul.

"Oh god. Sweetheart, why didn't you tell me you were hurt?" he asked, louder than he should have, and dragged Elle to her feet, searching for a room with light. He attracted someone. A blonde woman with curly hair and an accent that seemed Texan. Somehow.

"Well, that's just awful," she said, eyes wide.

"I know, the sight of blood is hard to take," Adam muttered, leaning down in front of Elle.

"No, her hair. It's a mess. Haven't you combed it?"

Adam looked at Elle. "Well?"

"I was talking to you, mister," she said, kicking his leg. He wasn't angry as much as bemused.

"I've been distacted, on the run, you see."

The woman's eyes drifted towards Elle's arm. "If that's jam, you're trying way too hard to get our attention."

"I wouldn't go that far. It is blood."

She wrinkled her nose and looked at Elle.

"I'll let you come home with me if you let her get cleaned up. Let her get some sleep. She's looked as if she's been drug through hell and back."

At that, Adam bristled. He had been taking care of her, more than he should. But he bit back the retort, seeing an opportunity. At the apartment, the opportunity seemed to deflate.

"I'm pregnant," the woman said, bluntly, as she opened her door with keys with tons of rocks and gems hanging off the side.

"I couldn't tell."

"Liar," she said, smirking at him. He let Elle run into the apartment, hoping she'd make a mess of things.

"Often," he said. "But not all the time. I can't tell."

"Neither could he, thank god. His family would have caught up with me."

Elle jumped on the couch, and the woman ran to catch her. "Sweetie, I'm going to give you a bath. Is that all right with you, dad?"

Adam's eyes widened. "Oh, she's...you see..."

"Now that part, I believed. She's the spitting image," the woman argued. By chance alone, by fluke.

"I suppose there is," Adam said. "It's all right with me. As long as I don't have to be involved."

The woman made a face at him and gathered Elle up in her arms.

"I should warn you," Adam began.

"I know how to handle a child. I grew up with siblings, and had to babysit all the time."

"If you say so," he said, with a slight smile. Thirty minutes later, she was nursing a burn.

"You should have told me," she hissed. "Here, honey, sit with your father." She put Elle in his arms, as she rubbed her elbow. "Got me but good."

"She's good at that," Adam said. Elle looked up at them mischeviously. He wondered why she didn't deny that he was her father. "Are you in pain? I can help."

"I'm used to burns," the woman said and held out her palm. A flame appeared in the center.

"As am I," Adam said, and grabbed her hand. She gasped, and then...smiled as his skin healed.

"Ohh, now that's a good one."

He shrugged, letting Elle burn his hands too. "She likes to write letters," Adam said. "Or draw. It's a game."

"You must really love her to let her do that."

He kept his head down for a minute, and after thinking of everything in the world to say, ended up saying nothing.

"Is it hard, being a parent?"

"It's trying," Adam said, through real experience. "Some aren't cut out for it. They always cry and wail as if they are being killed. There's no peace and not a second for oneself."

"Gee, thanks," the woman said, sighing. "I think I'll be okay at sticking around. I'm just worried about...like, sickness. I hate for mine to get sick."

"You sound as if you know the child will be."

"...I've done some tests. They all are...I think there's a chance of some problems. They said so at least."

"Did you get a second opinion?"

"Five, actually," she sighed, looking morose. "I'm trying to decide if it was me. How I am. Or him. If I should just...you know. There's no need for anyone to go through life with pain."

Adam raised his head. "I could help you there, you know."

Her eyes sparked. "How?"

"Will you help me, in return?"

"First tell me how."

"My blood," he promised. "If you inject yourself with my blood, I'm positive your child will turn out to be of perfect health."

...Fairly positive.

"What do I have to do?" the woman whispered.

He smiled and told her. She thought about it for a long time. "...As long as no one gets hurt."

"I can't promise that," Adam said, honestly. "But I know who won't. Your child. A lifetime of good health, of no pain. What mother can say no to that kind of offer?"

She lowered her eyes and shook her head.

"Can the girl get some sleep now?"

He should have known then. An hour with Elle safely out of side, the woman attacked him with her flames and drew his blood anyway while he was unconscious. He woke up to see her gone, with a few of her things packed away. Cursing, he looked up and saw Elle in the corner, eyes wide and shaking.

"I zapped her," Elle said, "and she hurt me."

"Because you were scared, I know," he sighed, digging through the bag of syringes the woman had rushed to buy.

"Because she hurt you," Elle said.

"And you're the only one who can, I know," Adam said. Elle blinked at him and looked down. It was oddly pathetic, and looking around, he saw the disarray. There had been some kind of fight. He looked back over and found himself speaking. She was only a child, and there had been a return of loyalty.

"I'm sorry. This was just a waste of time. You'll be all right soon."

And it had been brave of her, to act without having to be ordered.

She winced as he stuck in the syringe, and he touched her head lightly. Thinking it through, Elle wasn't...Elle would benefit the most from his actions. In his world, he'd keep her by his side. Even if he wasn't the best parent, he'd be better than Bob.

Or that woman. Adam wasn't one to forget a slight. He searched the apartment for a name, and found one. Meredith Gordon.

"...Did she use my blood before you got her, Elle?" Adam asked, something occuring to him. He wasn't sure what.

Elle nodded, searching for his approval.

He thought about it and smiled.

"Good girl."

***

At the second hideout, Adam was frustrated. He could only run at his captors. A true escape was futile, as it was.

"Adam."

There was a tug at his sleeve. Elle had been a handful. She had had a nightmare earlier and fried the bed. Adam couldn't find it in himself to be angry with her. He wasn't carrying on an argument with a girl that came up to his knee. But his plans...

He had to find another Special that was actually worth--"Adam, Adam."

"What?" he asked, harshly.

Her look was as if he had stabbed her.

"What, Elle?" he tried again, more softly.

"I'm cold."

"Then bundle up over there," he suggested.

"Not that kind of cold."

He looked again, and caught her shivering. He didn't know how he had missed it. She must have been medicated for many reasons. Adam's blood could do many things, but he couldn't help withdrawl. He cursed under his breath. Elle sparked, helplessly, as she shook.

"I'm not angry at you," Adam said, hating to have to be plain in his speaking. But he had to be blunt, straightforward. She wouldn't understand otherwise.

"You are," she argued. "You." Her eyes faded a bit. He went against his instincts and picked her up. She did burn him but to no avail.

"If you have to, keep going," he told her, his acceptance of her burning him all he could do, and Elle seemed to settled down, though she still shook in his hands. This, too, put him off. He was angry he couldn't stop it.

"You are angry," she whispered.

"Not at you," he said, slowly. "At other people."

He did have one clear thought: it was his Company. Followed by a more foggy one: in a way, she was his daughter more than Bob's. He tossed that thought away.

"Let's go outside and have a look...at the..." He tried to think of something interesting. "Stars," he finished.

"Stars?" she asked. "Like on the tv?"

"...All right now we have to go look at the stars," he said, taking her gently and walking outside. The stars were slow in coming, as it was still sunset. Wonderful. Good thing he had grabbed a secret weapon on his way out.

"I don't see any stars," she said miserably.

"Ah, but the sun is a star," Adam said wisely.

You'd have thought he had told her the secret of the universe. Her eyes widened. Her mouth droped. She almost paused in her shaking long enough to legitmately shake her head. She gasped and just...stared at him in awe.

"Well, it is," he said, tapping her on the nose.

"How do you know that?"

"Because I know everything," he answered, only a quarter kidding. Long ago, he had had no idea that was a star, either. It had been one of those strange revelations. One day, it'd go dark. Everyone assured themselves they wouldn't be alive for this day, forcing it upon future generations. One day he might see that...of course, he'd have to find a way to-

"Did you make it a star?" Elle accused.

He shrugged innocently, now having to smile and happy for the distraction. "Could have. It wouldn't do to have all the other stars feel overshadowed and start a revolution of great economic destruction."

Elle tilted her head, thinking it through. But she shook a little and he placed her down on the grass, making her sit. She looked up at him and laid down, miserable, but still staring at the sun with distrust. Smart girl. He revealed his hand. Yes, his fate of having a restful night (and a happier child) was based on this small bottle in his hands. Bubble soap. The things he did for others...he was the most generous person he knew, by far.

"Elle, watch what else I can do," Adam told her. He blew a bubble, a stream of them actually. It was the stupidest thing he had ever done, he was fairly sure--

But Elle screamed. He hadn't expected a scream.

"Now, it's just--." Water. But he hadn't let them go in her direction. No, she was generally afraid of the bubble. So, she stretched out a hand and zapped one. Adam raised an eyebrow. "I take it that's your response to everything. Let's see how good an aim you have."

After awhile, he started to have a good time. Oddly enough, it was amusing to see her try to kill bubbles. And she wasn't a bad aim.

"I got you, and you, and you!" she declared, whirling around, forgetting her physical troubles momentarily.

"You are quite the gunslinger," he told her.

She looked at her fingers.

"No, like this," he said and formed his fingers into the shape of a gun. "Can you focus your electricity?"

Turns out, she could quite well.

"Now you are good," Adam said, and she beamed at him. He felt a sense of pride that he could make a girl so lost smile like that. He knew only he could. Unfortunately, he did run out of bubbles. "No," he told her, her expression almost tragic. "I'm all out. There is more where that came from, but for now, we are done."

Elle looked around. Found a bird in a tree. He discerned what she was going to do too late, and zap, there was an explosion of feathers and a sound of indignation. He was about to tell her off for it but--

Okay. He laughed. Elle didn't like being laughed at, and he expected a retaliation, but this time, she paused and studied him. She smiled a little herself, smug. It was as if she knew she had made him laugh, and was proud of the fact.

"No more Tweety," she said. And he laughed again.

"I'd say so," he said, wiping his eyes. She danced over and sat besides him. Now there were traces of stars.

"So, the sun has to go away for the others to feel better?"

"Sometimes, he's locked away. Every day. But he gets out despite them."

"But he's still locked away," Elle said, then she stared at him. "It's kind of like you. You come back too."

"An apt metaphor," he said. "And a very mystical one. I suppose primal truths are there no matter what the source."

"I don't like it," she said. The metaphor, he was about to inquire, but then he realized that she didn't know what a metaphor was. What she didn't know, she didn't like or think about.

"That I come back?" he ventured a guess.

"That you die," she said. Adam stared at her. She could have fooled him. She always laughed and giggled about it before, but now her small features seemed older for her age.

"It's not a big deal," he informed her. "When I die."

"Will it be when I die?" she asked.

"That won't be for some time," he lied. Not in reference to the virus or any other thing. Her time wasn't that long to him.

"I don't think so," Elle said, and her eyes seemed knowing. "I think it'll be real soon."

To say he was surprised would be an understatement. He supposed it made sense. Having been so experimented on, there must have been some close calls. But this was different somehow. This was as if she was looking into the future. There were things still that he couldn't rightly explain. But he tilted her head up to look at him.

"It won't be. I promise."

"But will it be a big deal?" she asked again, fighting for some sort of upperhand, something that was purely hers and would never be his. He shouldn't give it to her.

"It will be," he said instead. She seemed too happy with this kind of statement, drank it in.

"Because, because," she said, on a roll. She grabbed his hand. "You'll remember me."

How did she know? Her father must have told her in great detail about him. Odd. Very odd.

"I don't think I could forget you even if I wanted to," he said, very honest at that point. Elle squeezed his hand and burnt him, not as bothered when his hand healed up this time. Maybe, all this time, she was trying to mark him, and now thought she had succeeded.

If that was what she needed, he'd give it because he could. Elle was better now. As for his plans...

Adam wouldn't waste time being indirect. He'd go for direct, straight to the source.

"I'm going to need your help, Elle," he told her.

Her eyes shone. She took far too much pleasure in that revelation.

***

Adam held the most ridiculous thing...ever in his life in his hands.

Boots. Little, small, Minnie Mouse boots. Or so he thought it was Minnie Mouse. He'd never claim to truly know the identity of the rodent.

"Did you know Minnie can carry the black plaque on some days?" Adam asked Elle, as he struggled to put on her boot. Her left foot twisted so that it was challenging. Again, he did know it was on purpose. She'd get tired long befor he could, and she seemed to sense it.

"What's the black pla...qah?"

"A very nasty, often fatal, headcold," he joked. Or rather it was the ticks and fleas that did that trick. He had seen what they did with the bodies for certain plagues but he had thankfully missed that one.

"Cool," Elle said, wiggling her feet eagerly into the boot. He fought back a smile and went to zip up the very small red coat he had had to get for her. It was cold out.

"You haven't seen anything yet, dear," Adam told her. "Now do you know what to do?"

Elle nodded. The set-up was very good. A long time ago, he had someone as an assistant working in the lab. Adam spotted him out, knew his characteristics well, and knew he was a thief. He allowed the man to go into the deepest holds of the Company, tempting him. Letting him get away with small things, in order to make him progress to the bigger things.

Made sure to open a safe in front of him and put some very important papers in. A rival of theirs in the chemical/biological development had the fake formula he had intended for them to have. Harris had been fantastic.

They caught him stealing equipment (that had been mysteriously left out), and Adam had let him go, knowing he had stolen far more. But the man wouldn't know what to do with the information. He was merely Adam's filing cabinet. Now, it was time to collect.

Harris had aged horribly. Walking down the steps of his derelict apartment complex, he had gone bald and his skin was sickly. And he wouldn't fair much better in a few moments.

"The cameras," Adam whispered to Elle, and she touched the wires. There was a pulse, and out went that problem. "The gates," he instructed (his words were her commands), and he heard the click as they opened. "Now, remember to sniffle. Spark yourself if you need to."

"I won't have to," Elle said, indignant, and rushed to the side of the building where Harris was standing outside, smoking. "Excuse me." He heard her sad tones from out here. "I'm lost."

"That's too bad," Harris said. "Go to the front desk, I'm sure they can help you."

"But, but I'm scared," Elle said, and touched the man's hand. He shook her off and started for the stairs. He'd lead the way to his apartment. Elle kept up, taking both stairs at the time. Adam hoped idly that she wouldn't trip and fall, but corrected his thoughts on that. It wouldn't be a big deal if she fell. Surely.

"Listen, kid," Harris said, swatting at her with his hand on the door, hurrying to get in. The door clicked open. "I'm not into charity cases, I don't know where your parents are. I can't help you."

"Can't I borrow your phone, mister? Please?"

He hesitated, on the threshhold, and then let her in. Adam hurried up the stairs as quietly as he could, moving by the window.

"Now what?" Harris demanded.

"All I want," she said (sniffling after all), "is a hug."

Harris sighed and knelt down--and was incapacitated.

Adam grinned in triumph. Elle was good at what she did, he'd have to give her that.

***

Elle shook her head.

"No crust."

Adam put the knife down quietly. Harris was in the back, very incapacitated. He'd fix that in a moment, a syringe would do it. But for now, Elle was hungry. She was acting as if he had starved her. Which he hadn't. Honestly. Barely. All there was in the refrigerator was beer except for a few jars. Peanut butter sandwich was all he could do. However, Elle wasn't satisfied with it.

"Excuse me?"

She pointed to the crust.

"I know what crust is, Elle," he snapped. She pouted and put her chin on her hands. He knew she wasn't this picky back at the facility.

"No crust," she said into her hands. He bit his lip--reeled himself in--and cut the crust off very deliberately. Elle bounced in her chair.

"Careful, don't fall backwards," he reminded her. Then hated himself for reminding her. He slid the plate at her, vengeful, and went to go interrogate Harris. He stopped midway, sighed, and went back to the table, taking the sandwich and cutting it into small, small pieces. "And don't choke. That wouldn't be a perfect way to end the night."

"Thank you, Adam," she sang-out. He glared at her, and she didn't seem to care. He'd have to deal with that later. Along with getting her more supplies: a toothbrush, pajamas, and so on.

Harris came to life abruptly and ungracefully. Adam heard Elle turn on the television to from the sounds of it...was a cartoon. Adam thought that was cruelly funny, and so he allowed it.

"You do remember me," Adam said, skipping the re-introductions. Harris's eyes were fixed on him in fear.

"I thought you were...I'm. I was gone before then. I didn't have anything to do with that."

"But you did steal from me," Adam reminded him. "Don't tell me that slipped your mind."

"I sold all of it," he said. Adam almost believed him. Almost.

"No, you didn't, Harris. Because it's unfenceable. The machine itself you couldn't sell for scrap. I saw to it. And you are a coward. You got out and did want to make a real attempt at selling scrap but you were afraid you'd be traced back. So, you kept it."

"Oh yeah, then where is it? If I couldn't sell it, I could just leave it somewhere or to someone else."

"Because you stole it," Adam said, amiable. "The thrill of that alone would make you loathe to get rid of it without true profit. You hide it well, like you hide all things well, because no one is more afraid of being stolen from than a thief. So, where is it?"

"It's just scrap, like you said."

"Where is it?" Adam asked. "Or else, you'll find out how death feels over and over again when they unleash the virus."

Harris stared at him in disbelief. "They..."

"You thought it was me," Adam said. "You were wrong. I was trying to stop them. And you'll find out how wrong you were before long. I'll make sure to bring you back to see. Again and again, if need be."

Now, that was horror. Adam let him mull it over. Elle was on the couch, eating her sandwich.

"Not so fast," he scolded. Then winced. "Or as fast as you please. As long as you are quiet about it."

Elle scooted nearer to him, and he looked past the screen, out the window. Thinking hard. She poked him in the ribs and then, when that got no response, took his hand in her sticky fingers and started to trace drawings into his palm.

"If that's a heart, I won't ever fix you a sandwich again," he said. Then he thought about it. "Not that I would ever fix a sandwich for you again."

He looked at her hair out of the corner of his eye. He'd hate to say it, but he'd have to brush her hair. She had been useful, though, tricking Harris into thinking she was innocent and wholly taken...

Advantage of.

And it hit him like a brick, in perfect clarity. Bob.

Adam had led Elle on for months, cracking down the walls, but what if Bob...Adam had threatened knowing of a second virus, only knowing the cure. He had threatened a lot of things. He had made the Company dependent on him. For blood. For competence. He had let them make mistakes in the past when they got too arrogant (sometimes assisted in the creation of those mistakes) and they'd come to him for answers.

This was how he survived. But if Bob wanted to test his threat...what better way that to let Adam lead them to it himself?

He tore his hand away. Elle blinked up at him in surprise. The room spun. Spun. He, a four-hundred year old immortal, a god for years, years!, had been tricked by a child. A little girl. A...he was going to be sick. After years, he was going to faint, pass out on the floor from the rage, the humiliation.

That they'd dare!

"Adam?" Elle asked, moving away. "Don't stare at me like that," she said. "I don't like it."

"Why haven't you used all of your electricity? Usually, before, it would spark all through your body. But I haven't seen you do it once."

Because of a tracker in her body. When she found the (virus), she'd spark and alert them. It was that simple.

The truth shown in her eyes. She was caught, and she smiled slightly, as if she couldn't hold a straightface any longer. He looked at her hair, in tangles.

"You turned on me," he told her.

She frowned. "It was a game," she said. "Like we were playing."

"Not with me. It's not a game with me," he said.

"But. But how do you...know when to-."

"Let me take care of your hair," he said, hating that he couldn't even keep her hair straight. And his actions would say enough. He pulled her into the kitchen and cut the scissors out. She was like a cat, keeping an eye on him while pretending to look away.

He twisted her hair back, tore through the tangles with his hands, and what he couldn't get his fingers through, he cut viciously. Elle whimpered.

"Be still," he said, having been in this same place before, that of feeling in his veins again. Hatred, he knew, did keep him alive: he wouldn't shy away from that fact. He was several places at once.

"It's hurting me," Elle said.

Adam backed off because her voice was so young and strangely honest. She. He looked at the floor where her hair was. His rage broke, and he just felt numb.

"Are you going to hurt me?" she asked, quietly.

He wanted to rage as he would at a betrayal like this, from them--again, but something stopped him. "No," he said. He stopped and slid onto the floor. "No I'm not."

Elle had her face covered by her hair. She moved forward and sat besides him. And did something impossible.

She took his hand. "Sorry," she said, and this truly shocked him. And he looked at her, tiny and small, and he knew he couldn't hold a vendetta against her. This would be a first.

But he couldn't let it go. He wanted a reason, even if it was from a child.

"Did he tell you he'd let you out more if you played this game with me? Did he say he'd stop the experiments if you were his tough little girl this one time?"

"Yes. He said that."

"He lied," Adam said.

"He said he loved me," Elle said.

"Well, he lied about that too," Adam said, bluntly. He expected and welcomed a tantrum, the real Elle coming out again.

Instead, she started to cry. A soundless, painful, very frightened cry. One she had been holding back for years. She turned, ashamed, and buried her face into his chest. What was he supposed to do with this?

Now, he felt...guilty? He wasn't sure because he never had a reason to feel guilty. But this time...he felt no satisfaction about retaliating. He let her cry for a few moments, and then moved his arms to hold her. He didn't know what else to do but it felt like he had to do something.

"It's all right," he said. "It will be. All right."

She shook.

"All is forgiven," he added, and felt like that fell flat.

"He is going to take me back to my room, isn't he?" she asked. "There's no...no door, even outside," she said, trying to articulate something she was unable to. But she was doing fairly well.

"I won't allow him to."

He had spoken before he made the decision, but that was the only decision he'd make. It was true.

Elle's eyes were red when she looked up.

"I'll make a perfect world for us," he said. "For you to be in. You won't have to worry, I'll take care of you."

"Why don't we just....run?" Elle said. He looked surprised. He was surprised. Out of the mouth of babes. There were a millions things he could say.

"Because I can't," he said.

He added, "Not when I'm so close to saving....everything."

But he couldn't run. There were too many ghosts in his head from centuries ago, too many eyes on him, to give up. Rather than he wouldn't give up, he couldn't give up. He was the only one that could pull this off and be a hero.

They could run, now, after Elle triggered the tracker. They could run and disappear.

But he couldn't. Adam laughed, laughed at it all while he could.

Elle didn't, watching him carefully.

"You should have a choice for once," Adam said, calming down and breathing deeply. "I can continue on. Do you want to remain with me at the end, or your father?"

Elle's hands clenched in his shirt. She put her full effort into her decision--her eyes went to him again.

"You," she said, so lightly he almost didn't hear her.

"Me," he repeated. Not...very surprised.

"We're friends," Elle said.

He had to look away at that...to see what Harris was up to. She tugged on his shirt.

"Yes, we are," he said.

Giving that to her, was all. He touched the edge of her hair, where he had lopped off a side of her hair. He felt..."I'll. I'll finish it.

Elle smiled.

"Okay. Then I'll do my best to help."

He thought there was a good chance (more than a chance) that if God came down to stop him, Adam would fight him. But he did feel now as if there was more than a chance of success.

***

Harris had the scrap metal.

All Adam had to do was slid the secret panel out, and there was what he had wanted smuggled out. It wouldn't take him long to figure out the code. Harris, he left as he was. Someone would come for him after a few days no doubt. If not, that was not his problem.

Now, to get rid of those trailing them. Adam had chosen the perfect place: an underground community again but this one had the worst of the worst. The most ambitious of their kind. Adam had been here years ago, and they were talking about taking over the world, taking their proper place as gods, among tidbits of their burglaries and...other darker crimes. Adam knew then--as he was what he was--he had to cut them off at the pass. Otherwise, someday, there will be a massacre, a war that would tear the world apart.

The upper level was just an empty warehouse. No one came to this place in a car, and the walls were thick with layers of metal. Impossible to get a sensor in here. They took their security to the level.

Elle's hands were trembling, from the crowd and the task ahead of her, and he put his hands over hers.

"Can you do this?"

A simple no...would not have sufficed. But he could find another way to take out the trigger. She didn't have to go this route, this--direct a rebellion.

"Please. Just tell me what to do," Elle said, her eyes tired with choices. He swallowed hard, one second of rare doubt, and then made her his weapon again.

"Do it. Send them in here."

You see. The moment she sent the spark back within herself, it'd show her father that she had found the second virus, leading them to raid. There was two-three minutes of nothing, silence outside and low talking inside.

Then the door was blown in. "Monroe! We have you surrounded, step--..."

The first agent peered inside the room, his eyes darting in and taking around....everyone around him.

"Who the hell?" The bouncer walked over, his hands turning into spikes. There were more footsteps, another door going down and glass breaking against the bar. It was a good thing Adam knew the way out was two steps away from him, a trapdoor. The bouncer swung. Took of the agent's head. Then was blown back by a spree of bullets. The hold over the Specials broke, and there was screaming. The kind of scream that meant people saw their death a second away.

That kind of noise.

Elle flinched, and Adam grabbed her and held her close to his chest, shielding her as glass and a table flipped over them. He just grabbed her and ran. Just as he was closing the trapdoor, he saw that flash of a power he had helped Arthur to procure. Arthur was here. There was a sudden cease in a good half of the screaming.

Fear, he felt, again. He ran, and Elle's heartbeat in his arms was somehow--comforting.

***

Adam swung around to the side street, where there was another way out.

He waited. Elle also knew exactly what to do. In the shadows, he saw the billows of smoke coming from the door and figures strumbling out of the inferno. The inferno itself--had been unexpected. They were covered in ash and blood, and he signaled Elle.

"Hey! Come with us!" Elle said. "It's safe!"

It was the sight of a little girl that drew them in, although suspicion and pain were still in their eyes. A group of teenagers mostly. Boys and girls with more power in their little pinky that the average human on the street. Adam pushed the pedal down and sped away. Elle hurriedly got back in the seat besides him, eyeing the new group nervously.

The girl was sobbing. "Franklin died. They killed him. I saw one of those men melt him. Melt him!"

"They are from something called the Company," Adam said, making sure to translate his fear into something relatable. "They are trying to round us up."

The anger did transform. They listened to him, and they believed him because of what they had just seen.

"My little girl and I..escaped months ago, barely. Didn't we, Elle?"

"They put me under water once, to see if I could spark there," Elle said, showing them the light between her fingers. Adam hadn't known of that experiment. "I kept going cause they told me I'd get used...used to the...threshold," she said, pouncing on the word.

"Monsters," a boy said, his eyes turning red. "We should kill them. Skin them alive."

Adam took Elle's hand quickly as she recoiled from the hiss between his lips.

"...I know a place where they are, where we escaped," Adam said. Now, for the set-up. "I wouldn't go back for the world, so I know where to go as far away as I can get."

"Take us," the boy growled, flexing his arm. Showing that he had super strength by crushing the armrest. Elle's nails were digging into his skin at this point. He hated the man on principle now.

"...I don't..."

"Take us," the girl said, lifting a cup from the cupholder with her mind.

"...All right. It's your choice."

Elle didn't let go of his hand the entire drive to the facility where the second virus was held. If she had, he just would have taken her hand again.

***

"Adam."

He didn't dare put Elle down, watching his group of revengeful malcontents take his advice for once and disguse themselves as Company employees. He was good at getting those details right.

It was night, and the stars were out. There was the constellation where there was an arrow above them, and the sense of something more. Something greater. There was the air on his skin. There was a lot of risk in this. He saw the walls of that cell, buried in the back of his mind. He wondered...

No, he couldn't get hurt. Not again. He knew what to do.

"Yes," he said, and she burrowed her face agaisnt his chest. He put his chin on the top of her head, craddling her slightly. It was almost time.

"Can we go to Disneyworld after it's all over?" she whispered, her breath on his throat, and something inside of him felt for her, twisted in a way that it hadn't in a very long time. A living person, he reminded himself. Many more will die tonight. But he wouldn't let this one die.

So, he smiled.

"I was about to suggest that myself."

***

The girl (whose named Adam did not bother to learn) could do the most interesting things with telekinesis.

She walked up to the guards in her disguse, looking the part to the teeth. "The alarm sounded. I think someone's inside."

The men snapped to attention and pulled open the doors.

"...Wait, what signal were you on-."

And she pulled them apart. Elle had seen a lot of death--caused a great deal of it--but he turned her face away for that one. These six poured in, in front of him, and he followed closely, searching for a vault, knowing the code.

He reassured himself that he knew the code. The alarm started to go off.

"Elle," he whispered, and he felt the pulse travel through him and to the walls. Off it went, knocked dead. Hopefully the lines of communication went with it. He left them behind, let them fight the bulk of the security. He had a straight walk towards the vault. This one was special. One touch, and it could kill several parts of your body.

He wasn't worried about himself.

He heard something behind him (a sudden traveler from time) was his first, sick-dead instinct, and it was as if he was shot in the chest for the first time (cursed for the first time). Elle held out her small hand and got them before he had time to turn around. Just a guard.

Now: the vault. He had a syringe, too, for Elle. This prototype would be quite the kick at any rate. The code. He had Hiro's mother set up with some blood, on the side, as a gift for their union. He did want Hiro able to find him, make him.

Because this was how it was to be. He put Elle down, gently, and she took his hand before he could move away.

"I have to do this one thing alone. I'm right over there."

"Will it make you die?"

"No," he lied. "Stand at least a foot away."

She stood, her blue eyes alert.

"More than that," he said, and she inched back. "There, that's perfect. You get to see history."

It was too easy. The code was perfect, exactly as he had left it, and he was in. Searching through drawers, knowing that salvation was only separated from him from a thin layer of cheap metal.

In the third one--just another code, some clicks of numbers--there it was. The prototype. It'll buy him all the time in the world. For now, it'll be enough, and it did feel like enough. He had done it. Despite their attempts, he had made it through force of will and wit.

He stepped on the edge of the border, not minding the burn on his skin, and then he saw them all. Bob was in front of them, sporting a nasty cut down the side of his face. Oh, how Adam wished it had been more than a cut. He didn't see Elle, but he would shortly.

He had the vial behind his back. He'd drop it and let them go. Bob had undone himself through his corruption and arrogance this time: they always do at the end.

Adam smiled and, for a moment, was on top of the world.

Then Bob pulled Elle out from behind him. He almost dropped the vial--he only managed to stop at the last second. Bob Bishop--the nerdy young man he had recruited--was holding a gun to his daughter's head. He had known--but still...this caught him off guard.

"...Well, you'll save her the symptoms..." Adam said, bluffing.

"Of the virus."

"Of having you as a father."

"Put it back and come out."

"You think that will stop me. One girl who will be dead in the long run," he said, and his words, he believed. One girl against the fate of the world, his world. To stop this from ever happening to another girl again. He wouldn't--couldn't--show such weakness, not after swearing it off forever in a burning inferno half way around the world.

Bob held the gun up and shot at the wall. Adam saw that the gun was indeed loaded, indeed not blanks. It was back at Elle's temple.

"I'll kill her before I let her suffer being with you."

"Ah, it is all about the petty revenge with you," Adam said. "I know. Everything you touch isn't golden, is it, Bob?"

"You should know, you're the one who corrupted us."

He'd protest. They were already rotten, made that way.

"Go ahead, Bob. If it makes you feel better about your wife, the one you want to kill in some way."

"All right," Bob said, with utter confidence.

The trigger pulled back, and he saw Elle's eyes widen. The look in them. The look.

He was outside the threshold before he thought, holding out the vial before he thought. Before he realized about what he was giving up...what fate he was returning to. And the hell of it was he would have made the same decision. Regardless. Like he had seen in Elle's eyes, there wasn't an option.

They were all over him in a second.

***

Adam didn't see her again for years.

The only mention he got about his little adventure was a visit from Arthur: he tried not to show fear, facing it down as he always did, be it metal, fire, or traitorous old friends. He saw a promise of death in the man's eyes, but Arthur only said that his wife wanted him to give Adam their thanks for helping their granddaughter.

Whatever that meant. He thought he'd know if he worked it through, but he didn't want to. He didn't want to. He had walls to stare at and the threat of eternity to get through. There'd be a way out--unless there wasn't one.

He was tested, experimented on, and caught in a trap of his own making.

And so he died many times for them to write notes in their files. He died for them to live, and it meant--so little. His skin would heal, his blood would heal, no matter what he wanted.

He thought of her, now and then. Wondered if Bob had gone through with his promise and killed her.

Then she came back, like he did in a way. He wondered if death was as unkind to him because it wasn't the same girl. It was the body but the mind...the girl with him had only been half gone. This one, Elle, smirking at him without a memory of him, wasn't the same girl. There wasn't a flicker in her eyes--that look in her eyes lived on only in his memory.

So. His...doubt, for nothing. He'd never let it happen again, for the sake of the world (protecting people, perhaps, wasn't his forte...and he wouldn't think of that either). Oh, Adam wanted to tell her, sometimes only to make her step back, to really make this Elle hurt, but he didn't know how to say it. It didn't seem right to say, that she could have gone on with half her sanity with a carnival where the lights were brights and always there. That he could have gotten her away and to some semblence of life.

No, he'd take that burden too because it didn't hurt him. Not really.

Only, he let her still write on his skin.


End file.
